


Lingering

by SuperDuperJacket



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Imagination, Inspired by the Remake, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Secret Crush, Slow Burn, This was made to hurt specific people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:54:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperDuperJacket/pseuds/SuperDuperJacket
Summary: An overactive mind is caused by hyperfixated thoughts, which is an issue that Tifa often battled with. While living in the Sector Seven slums didn't give her much to think about, a new disruption came in the form of a stranger who kept visiting her bar. And on a rainy day when the bar's closed, he's the only person on her mind.Pre-Canon Tifa/Rude from Tifa's perspective. Just pining and slow burn, you know that good stuff. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Rude
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	Lingering

**Author's Note:**

  * For [comaliesvii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/comaliesvii/gifts).



> One day, my friend Jack approached me with a simple comment: "hey, do you know Rude is canonly crushing on Tifa?" 
> 
> And since he's my favorite Turk, and Tifa is my favorite FF7 character, I had to use this opportunity to cause chaos. Set pre-canon as a framework, but also with my own personalized touches on Tifa and how I headcanon her. This is an interpretation of hyper fixation on a stranger who impacted you in some way, whether it's just their looks or actions. It may be a crush, or it may be a fascination, but regardless it's there. 
> 
> Plus, I see too many Rude pining over Tifa fics, so I wanted to switch the language. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!

With eyes as wide as the moon, her dad told her she could see through every corner of her world. With her memory, she could recall everything vividly and extensively. Nothing got past her; once she sees it, it's with her mind forever. That went beyond the broader pictures of an empty field of flowing posies and starless nights in empty Nibelheim. She saw specifics, and with that, created her own stories. Out in the area, she saw the barren stump that once stood high for her climb. One so tall it rivaled the mountains around. In the starless skies, she saw darkness — a cool breeze that enveloped her, that shook her core. 

It's here she acknowledged her imagination as a blessing and a curse. One that resonates deeply beyond a simple thought. One that keeps her up at night, running various scenarios that singled her out. Ones that helped alleviate the quiet loneliness. 

But most of the time, it brought worry — worry she'll believe her thoughts more than what's around her. And that alone made her cold. 

——

As she got older, this imagination never quelled. It often leads her to dreamy moments with a thousand-mile stare, as she did in her small apartment. She leaned into the window sill, head resting on her arms as the rain clicked against the glass. It's the spring's first natural rain shower, which brought fresh air for the residents and newer ideas for Tifa. This lead to the closure of Seventh Heaven for the day. Everyone should enjoy the pure water, and she got a moment to herself. There, she sat with a long sweater draped over her body. The warmth bringing comfort she hasn't had in a while.

Tifa hasn't been entirely alone since coming to Sector Seven. Since coming to the slums, she always felt eyes on her. At any point in the day, someone had to be by her side. Whether it's Barret with his big AVALANCHE plans or Biggs coming around with his cats after her shifts, she always seemed crowded. It was constant that stuck with her from her small town— everyone wanted to be around her. 

And yet, as her mind wandered, she thought of that man—the one who kept his distance. Tifa recalled the first time the man walked into her bar: near closing time on a Sunday. He came in with a rowdy fella — a man with wild, blazing red hair, which contrasted the clean-cut, close-shaven man who caught her eye.

Her attention should have been on the rowdy one. That night, the redhead seemed keen to know her (as most men were). He was against the counter, boozing, offering to buy her a drink to end the night with him. Tifa laughed it off. She remained polite, hoping the redhead wouldn't encroach on her space. All the while, her glance kept flickered back to the redhead's companion.

The other man's aura starkly contrasted his friend— he felt cool. So much so that each glance she stole made another chill crawl up her spine. Her lingering curiosity kept her coming back to get a closer look. The first glance saw his glasses & piercings--his emotions hidden behind dark shades worn inappropriately inside. Yet, his ear piercings clashed with his postering. It didn't reduce the coldness emanating from him.

The second glance noticed his face. A stone-cold stoic look matched his clenched jaw. Through a look alone, Tifa felt a strict, regimented man who let very few in. Someone who didn't need words to show about who he was (a trait she envied to a degree). 

The third glance took in the difference in their heights. Despite his distance from her and how the man stood mere feet away, she felt the sheer intimidation. Yet, fear never got her. More-so her curiosity did. With the main questions being: why didn't he want to talk to me?

All she got were his returned, covered glances.  
——

A deep sigh left her lips. She was back in her seat, back gazing at the droplets hitting the window pane. The memory left goosebumps on the back of her neck. The same sensation she got from those drifting glances.

Tifa took the opportunity to get up from her chair to pace the room. She placed small steps in the apartment that felt larger in her movements. Her body drifted across the room, as did her mind once again. Her arms crossed around her tightly as she swayed around. The beat of the rain grew with her pace. Her personal embrace grew tighter, fingers wrapped around the soft cashmere sweater. She was secure, innocently thinking — What is he doing right now?

Ever since that night, that man and his friend came more often. The few times afterward were innocent, set in the same scenario as their first meeting. His red-headed friend, now identified as Reno, would chat her ear off, while the man kept his distance. Reno never directly referred to the other man unless it was to add a snide jab to the other's stoicism. Often times, Reno referred to the other as "rude," when Tifa considered him quiet. There was nothing wrong if he didn't want to talk… there wasn't anything rude about it. At least, that's what she wanted to believe. 

But then Reno stopped coming. His friend started coming alone once a week, consistently. It'd be at the start of the evening, where he took a spot in the farthest corner. Even in those moments, they never spoke more than brief sentences. She even began to remember his order: 

"Del Sol Lager, 16 ounce, yes? "

"Correct." 

"Anything else? "

"… I'll be fine. " 

His words were curt, crossed with his typical coolness. His jaw clenched slightly with hesitation. Not out of anger, however, as Tifa assumed in their initial meetings. It felt like second nature to him. Tension seemed to follow him, and it showed. Stiff posture and arms crossed tightly against his suited chest felt defensive, and Tifa didn't know how to navigate with just a bubbly facade. So, she'd nod her head, smile, and let it be. Occasionally, he'd thank her back. Just barely, but enough for her to wonder.

She'd continue to watch him throughout the night, however. He'd proceed to cradle his drink, and sometimes they caught glances, but only briefly. Chills grew. Sometimes, she'd feel eyes on her, but she wouldn't dare assume it was him (that'd be hopeful). When he left, he'd leave a nice tip. Rinse and repeat each week. That's as far as their interactions would go. Both refreshing yet inconvenient — it only heightened her interest. Does he even like me? 

——

Tifa twirled on the tip of her toes, landing not so gracefully on her bed. Bright brown eyes looked up to the ceiling in a daze. She came back to that brief thought as she held herself — imagining his arms crossed against his chest. He seemed strong in all aspects, in both aura and how he presented himself physically. So much so that curiosity continued to wander — was he strong enough to embrace her? 

In all honesty, he was a stranger, yet she felt more compelled to him than most regulars. It was the mystery that seemed to fixate her — the lack of knowledge of who he really was. Tifa acknowledged he may go to the bar on instinct today, only to see it closed for the day. Would he miss me?

That'd be silly, she thought, as she held herself tighter. Butterflies in her stomach wished to be held in those crossed arms. It's a fleeting infatuation, she's sure of that. And in her core, nothing would come from brief moments with a stranger.

But, it didn't stop her mind from wandering towards the different possibilities. What if she went to the bar now — would he be waiting for me?

Her arms slumped down to her body, gently resting on her hips instead of the embrace. She'd probably bring an extra umbrella to the bar, despite feeling he'd get one of his own accords. She'd still offer it regardless. Maybe he'll take it just to be polite.

Maybe they could chat for a bit; it'd be brief—

"Why are you here? "

"Just taking a walk. " 

It would be a light lie, but she'd accept it. Maybe there'd be a hidden warmth in his gruff tone. His words were simple, spoken politely instead of pushing her away. The excuse would warm her heart.

She'd take a small step forward—would it be too bold to ask him to come over? Probably, but she'd do it anyway. Her excuse would be the rain and claims she left the key to the bar at her place. They could walk over, grab a drink, and then she could open the bar later. It'd be a stretch, but in her heart, he'd agree. 

——

The rain grew more erratic, to the point of storming. Silvery clouds grew dark, covering the outdoors in a bleak aesthetic. Tifa's small apartment was only illuminated by her lamp's faint light that flickered if she moved too much. The soft sound of thunder brought her back to reality briefly. She sat herself up on the edge of her bed to look further out. Only to feel the butterflies rise again. Then, lightning struck. 

He'd be there for it, barely flinching at the noise. When the light fades, he'd be sitting beside her amid the dim lighting. They'd be so lost in conversation over bitter ales that they'd wouldn't notice the storm's increase. She'd be worried about time, but he'd remain polite. Whether it be the liquid courage or the mellow atmosphere, he'd be more at ease. One where he even allowed her a glimpse into who he was. Even his rare smile spoke well of him. 

Tifa could note the intimate details of his face — like light smile lines or old scars that are long withered away (from what she recalled from brief glances; she didn't want to assume too much on what happened to him). His nose would crinkle when he liked something (she'd like to believe). And even more noticeable would be the growing warmth he'd have in his gaze. Maybe he'll feel free to take the dark shades off to show brown eyes like her's. Deeper ones that have seen more than she could. But in contrast to his entire demeanor, she would be able to see a genuine soul. 

That's all she could wish to know. Then they could spend the night reflecting in each other's presence, all while ending in the embrace she grew curious about. She wouldn't care about the future or the past, only for this present moment alone for lingering moments of security with a complete stranger.

But another flash of lightning brought her back to reality. Her lamp flickered several times before growing dim in the dinky apartment. And there she would sit, arms wrapped around her once again. There she was, alone.

Her imagination continued to be a curse, as did the lingering infatuation that left her heavy. 

——


End file.
